


Pluck at my (Heart)strings

by sockmin



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Ancient China, Angst, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, War, chinese period drama!au, courtier junhui, fem chan, fem jeonghan, junhui plays the guzheng, soldier minghao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-25 15:37:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13837803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sockmin/pseuds/sockmin
Summary: (greatly underdeveloped; slow updates)Blinking the sweat from his eyes, Minghao ducks behind a barricade and catches his breath. In this split second of rest, as the adrenaline fades from his mind, his head thrums with the discordant clash of steel, the twang of bowstrings and the cries of the wounded. His heart thumps to the banging of the wardrums and the battle cries, and he dimly remembers a time when his heartbeat would sing in rhythm with a guzheng, when his heart would flutter with love for the player.Here, in the violent storm of war, those times seemed all too far away.





	1. 楔子 // prologue

**Author's Note:**

> \- set in the Qing Dynasty, includes events of the Second Opium War  
> \- attempting to be historically accurate ;-;  
> \- i am very surprised that i haven’t seen any ancient china junhao aus  
> \- the guzheng is a traditional chinese plucked string instrument that uh looks like a block of wood with strings  
> \- https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Guzheng

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The raucous chatter of the mess hall always seemed to crowd Minghao’s mind and disorientate him, naturally driving him to seek calmer, more peaceful places to sit whenever he could catch a break. Recently, he’d been drawn to the palace gardens more and more often; the scenery was definitely breathtaking (the gardeners do work hard— after all, they get executed if the landscaping isn’t up to the royals’ standards), and the scent of the flowers are intoxicating. 
> 
> But more than he’d like to admit, there is another reason Minghao keeps going back— and it definitely has nothing to do with the gardens themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mingyu’s name here isn’t pronounced min + gyu like it is in korean! instead, it’s ming + yu (明玉), meaning bright/brilliant and jade/precious gem respectively. jin (金) is the chinese equivalent of the surname kim.

Minghao’s always been a recluse, naturally quiet and reserved, only speaking when he deems fit. He’s never paid much attention to other people, and they in turn never bothered him. 

Which is why he constantly questions why he, Xu Minghao, of all people, got landed with Jin Mingyu as a best friend and, as Mingyu himself rather eloquently put it, ‘battle bro’. Mingyu is loud, hyper, and incessantly noisy, seeming perfectly content to chatter away with minimal response from Minghao, who almost always wasn’t half listening to him, anyway. 

Despite everything he could possibly find annoying about the man, Minghao couldn’t help but have grown closer to him, especially since beneath the overgrown puppy persona Mingyu was a genuinely sweet dude. Minghao doesn’t mind Mingyu, and can even accept his dumbassery— most of the time —but what he absolutely can’t stand and what Mingyu can’t seem to stop doing is spilling tea. And not the kind Minghao downs multiple teapots of in one night when he has a particularly difficult sword movement to practise. 

Almost every afternoon, he’d be greeted by Mingyu’s grin and a eager squeal of ‘guess what?’ or ‘did you know?’ before trailing off into a long-winded gossiping session on who did what (or who, for that matter...) and whether it was advisable or not. 

Minghao really couldn’t care less. 

Which is why, when he sees Mingyu advancing towards him with the telltale gleam in his eyes, he sighs wearily and turns away, but little does he know what kind of information Mingyu would be accosting him with this time.


	2. 国色天香 // chapter one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 国色天香
> 
> ethereal colour and celestial fragrance [said of the peony, or a beautiful woman]; an outstanding beauty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhh i’m sorry this is pretty short and shitty!! i’ve gotten horrendous writers’ block for the beginning chapters of this fic so pls bear w me ;-;;
> 
> there’s some chinese mixed in + cultural references; they’ll be explained in the end notes if you don’t get em
> 
> if you do, well  
> enjoy ;))

“Hao, why didn’t you tell me?” Mingyu wails dramatically by way of greeting as soon as Minghao makes an appearance (just to collect his lunch before sneaking off to the gardens, as usual). Minghao stares quizzically at his self-professed best friend’s unexpected query, shaking his head questioningly while the latter pouts exaggeratedly in response.

“Why didn’t you tell me about your _crush_?”

  
Minghao’s eyes widen and he opens his mouth to protest, but Mingyu cuts him off with another, louder proclamation. “You go to the gardens every day to see them, don’t you? That one courtier with the guzheng.” Dropping his voice abruptly to a conspiratoral whisper, he snickers, “ _He’s_ the beautiful scenery you say you go there for, isn’t it?”

  
Minghao’s horrified gaze meets Mingyu’s suggestively wiggling eyebrows and he frowns and slaps Mingyu’s arm, hissing, “Jin Mingyu, _shut up_! Do you want to embarrass me in front of the entire platoon? And,” his frown deepens, “What if someone hears you... you know.” Mingyu laughs in his face and Minghao smacks him again. “混蛋, you’re literally the only person who knows I’m- I’m gay.”

  
Ignoring the aggression, Mingyu grins, showing his trademark sharp canines that make his smiles more endearing— but also, more often than not, more annoying. “Don’t worry, no one’s gonna lynch your skinny ass,” Mingyu coos, draping an arm over Minghao’s shoulders. “And it’s gotta be true if you’d be embarrassed by it, Hao.” 

Minghao ignores the heat creeping across his face and glares at the people in front of them in the queue, willing them to move faster so he can grab his lunch and get the hell out of here.

  
In other words, get the hell away from Jin Mingyu and his prying eyes that knew nothing about him and Junhui, but seemed to be assuming everything.

  
Him and _Junhui_. Minghao grits his teeth at the thought of the obnoxiously flirty, cocky courtier and how, ever since Junhui had noticed Minghao in the gardens, he would throw pickup lines at the soldier with every breath he took and disturb Minghao’s peace; not to mention unintentionally fluster Minghao with his stupid, flirty teasing.

  
How he would bother him about the most asinine things, how he would sometimes lean from the window of his room and randomly put plum blossoms in Minghao’s hair— and especially how he would always, always look infuriatingly, mind-numbingly as gorgeous as the flowers he was surrounded with.

  
“气死人了,” he mutters furiously, and if Mingyu notices how Minghao’s blush deepens inexplicably, he wisely chooses to ignore it.

  
Ten minutes later and Minghao is ensconced on a bench in the corner of the palace gardens, with a stunning view of the lake and some depressed-looking willow trees.

He sighs and starts prodding at his rice, hoping that Junhui wouldn’t find him this time.

  
✿

  
The first few weeks Minghao had started hanging out in the gardens at lunchtime were uneventful, giving him exactly the peace he wanted— until one sultry afternoon when he’d sat down on his usual bench only to almost incur cardiac arrest as a palace window right above his head swung open, narrowly missing Minghao’s ponytail.

  
He’d stayed frozen in place as voices rang out from the room— “Junhui-ge, this is your room, it’s got a really nice view of the gardens,” —and prayed silently that whoever this Junhui was, he would pick a different window to admire the royal plant life through.

  
Of course, Minghao’s prayers never get answered, maybe 观音妈 just hated his guts; whatever it was, the next thing he heard was a contented sigh directly above him. He’d instinctively looked up, only to see a sinfully sharp jawline, the most prominent adam’s apple and the most perfect features he had ever seen in his life.

  
He’d blinked, and the next thing he knew, Junhui had turned his gaze from the foliage to straight down beneath his window, and Minghao’s breath hitched in his throat when he saw the courtier’s eyes widen in shock, then settle with a mischievous gleam.

  
And damn, did Junhui have pretty eyes, too.

  
“Junhui-ge, are you satisfied with your room?” One of Junhui’s companions had called, startling the both of them— and yet Minghao still found himself locked in intense eye contact with the other. Unmoving, Junhui smoothly replied, “Of course I am, thank you,” Pausing, he added with a smirk, “Especially with this view.”

  
Minghao choked and reddened in disbelief at the blatant flirting (literally right in front of his face). Junhui had the audacity to wink at him before straightening and turning back into his room, and Minghao pulled his head upright, feeling the blood rush to his face.

  
His heart had thumped wildly against his ribs, and he’d briefly considered permanently relocating to the mess hall after all.

  
✿

  
Of course, he couldn’t stay in the mess hall for longer than thirteen minutes at a time before either getting a headache from the noise and more often than not, a brawl breaking out among the soldiers, or being thoroughly annoyed by Mingyu’s bitching and moaning.

  
Which is why he finds himself coming out of his reverie to see peony petals fluttering onto his lap, shoulders and _into his bowl_.

  
Minghao doesn’t even bother looking up, just stabs his chopsticks into his rice and hisses, “ _Wen Junhui_.”

  
The petals cease for a moment before he feels more land in his hair and Junhui _tsks_ beside his ear. “Minghaooo, I can’t believe you,” he whines, gesturing dramatically to Minghao’s chopsticks, standing straight up in the mound of rice (and petals) in his bowl. “What a blasphemy— are you saying you want me dead?”

  
Minghao rolls his eyes and whips around, holding his rice bowl up in mock reverence. “啊，太可惜啦!” he proclaims, enjoying the stunned look on Junhui’s face. “In loving memory of Wen Junhui,” Minghao continues, faking tears. “He’s not dead, but he soon will be if he doesn’t stop feeding me shitty flower petals.”

  
Junhui pouts, still clutching a peony in one hand, and complains, “But Hao, peonies are anything but shitty; they’re regal and opulent, not like you’d know anything about that,” he adds snidely. Minghao frowns at him when he opens his mouth to taunt him further.

  
“They’re weak,” Minghao cuts him off sharply, narrowing his eyes when Junhui raises his eyebrows. Minghao huffs. “I’m not a delicate, high-class flower boy like you, your _highness_. I know you think you’re hot shit, but maybe try lifting more than that block of wood before you want to act better than us.”

  
Junhui’s smirk fades and he stares at Minghao in silence for a few moments before his eyes cloud over uncharacteristically, and he murmurs lowly, “I was just joking.”

Getting no response from the stoic soldier, he frowns. “You’re still not over that, huh?”

  
Minghao laughs, a sharp, discordant sound among the gentle rustling of leaves and melodic birdsong. “How could I be, Junhui?”

  
✿

  
After their first interaction, when Junhui had left the window, Minghao had stayed on the bench, debating whether or not to get up and leave. He’d elected to wait, because he didn’t feel like going back to return his bowl sooner than he needed to, and there was still a while left til the end of lunch.

  
Another reason: Eavesdropping a little couldn’t hurt, could it? Minghao was bored.

  
He listened to Junhui chatter with his friends, which soon reached a volume that allowed Minghao to eat quietly without being noticeable. And also allowed him to hear every little thing they were talking about, which turned out to be very unfortunate indeed.

  
Minghao never really knew what the courtiers spent their time talking about; he’d had little to no interaction with them, after all, soldiers were never meant to mingle with the ‘higher class’. Which is why he’d been surprised when Junhui and his counterparts started conversing about, of all things, the palace gossip.

  
It was like he was back in the mess hall beside Mingyu, spouting random juicy nuggets of information. He felt the same twinge of distaste he had for such discussions in general, but was too comfortable to leave especially since, if he left, he’d be faced with the same thing anyway. But the more Minghao stayed to listen, the more he realised a subtle shift in the conversation; from just talking about the things the nobles got up to, to speaking of palace maids, servants— and soldiers.

  
And rather infuriatingly rudely, too, Minghao noticed.

  
Having lost his appetite, he’d long abandoned his half-eaten meal by the time the chatter swung around to a familiar name, and Minghao stiffened when he heard one of the voices call out, “ _Jin Mingyu_ ,” evoking a chorus of conspiratoral snickers.

  
“He’s gay, isn’t he? Disgusting.”

  
Minghao bit his lip in speechless anger as there was another round of titters, and heard a familiar voice, that’d been silent until now, start to speak.

  
He listened to Junhui’s soft, smooth voice and felt his heart ice over.

  
“Not only that, he has a thing for his own general,” Minghao stood to leave, sickened beyond belief and no longer caring who saw him from the window. “Nice to see the soldiers’ code of conduct allows for sleeping your way to the top,” and as Junhui’s words caused everyone to erupt in sniggers, Minghao turned to stare through the window and met his gaze, coincidentally positioned directly across.

  
He glared long enough to see Junhui’s easy smile slip off his handsome face, and stalked off without looking back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- homosexuality was frowned upon in ancient china— but this opposition only arose around the Tang Dynasty. gay relationships were actually being encouraged in older times, regarding them as normal facets of their lives, and even promoting them as exemplary ;))  
> \- unfortunately since our fic is in the qing dynasty,, junhao can’t just straight up be gay for each other  
> \- 混蛋 (last line, fourth paragraph from the very start) means something similar to ‘bastard’ but literally means ‘mixed egg’  
> \- 气死人了 (second-last paragraph just before the first section break); literally ‘[makes people] so angry they could die’ or ‘angered to death’  
> \- 观音妈 (3rd para of second section) guanyin, or the goddess of mercy, is an East Asian bodhisattva associated with compassion  
> \- the part where minghao stabs his chopsticks into his bowl is actually very v e r y rude; it is believed you shouldn’t stick your chopsticks straight up because it looks like joss sticks used for praying to ancestors— i.e., dead people. doing that in front of other people is like saying you want them to die :D  
> \- minghao’s “啊，太可惜啦!” to junhui is just saying ‘ah, whatta pity’


End file.
